The Last Farewell
by Chrisii
Summary: "It was kind of ironic to lay him here, the man who was quicker than any car, quicker than anything on Earth. Then again, it was nice to end life peacefully, even if he had run until his dying breath." The funeral of Pietro Maxinoff, as told by the Avengers.


_**Last farewell.**_

It was a secluded grove, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It was kind of ironic to lay him here, the man who was quicker than any car, quicker than anything on Earth. Then again, it was nice to end life peacefully, even if he had run until his dying breath.

The sun, shining brightly in the sky, was blocked by the large trees that grew in the clearing. Their branches weaved together, creating a natural umbrella per se, and a very peaceful clearing. Small, colourful flowers broke the dull green of the grass blades that tickled their shoes, their fragrance sweet and soothing.

Silence reigned over everything. A light breeze rustled the leaves, creating a symphony that not even birds dared to break.

The plastic chairs looked out of place. Despite the fact that Pietro had helped them only in his last moments, more than half of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had attended, with director Fury sitting in front with the Avengers. Wanda was seated at the very front, shaking with sobs that threatened to escape her.

She felt hollow inside. Ever since their house was bombed down, she and Pietro had always stuck together, been there for each other, protected each other. Never had one of them been alone. Now, as she gazed at the coffin where her twin had been laid to rest, she felt utterly and truly alone in a world where she would never be accepted anywhere.

Two agents started to bury the casket, and the sound of the dirt hitting the coffin echoed loudly in Wanda's ears, and she lost whatever semblance of control she had on herself.

A loud, heart breaking, scream escaped her lips, and tendrils of red curled around her fingers as her eye colour flickered. She lunged forward, trying to make her way to her older brother, her protector. Her advance was quickly halted by two strong arms that lifted her off her feet and pulled her slim frame back against a broad chest. She thrashed wildly, attempting to get out of her restraints, to get her brother back, to just wake up from this nightmare.

When will it ever end?

Her legs kicked uselessly, and Clint winced as his own legs took her frenzied hits. There was a maniac-like expression on Wanda's face. Her eyes were wide, and she was snarling at the agents who worked quickly to cover up the burial ground and stick the headstone. Her magic had died down a little, but she was still buckling against his arms, trying in vain to reach her only family.

The casket was fully covered by dirt now.

The headstone was beautifully carved, as if someone had taken the time to carve his face in almost dizzying accuracy.

The girl suddenly stopped fighting, dead weight on the archer's arm. He felt the first tremor that ran through her form, and efficiently pressed her against his side, allowing her to cry on his shoulder. One of her small hands grasped his shirt tightly, creasing the material, while the other curled around his waist as she sunk against him, knees too weak to hold her weight. Clint gently mussed her hair, offering what little comfort he could.

The guilt was eating him alive. Pietro had died because of him. He had died to save the archer and some little kid. If only he had been faster, more agile, hadn't been so fast to accept his fate...

Maybe then, they wouldn't be here. They would all be drinking somewhere.

He couldn't imagine how he would react if he lost Natasha, or Laura and the kids.

Probably be worse off than Wanda.

 _The red-head choked on a sob before a hiccup escaped her._

* * *

Steve could feel his own heart breaking for the girl. The black tie was too tight over his white shirt collar, and Steve could feel the stifling heat. His hands, crossed tightly over his broad chest, were loosely curled into fists. This wasn't fair. Why did Pietro have to die? Why did he have to be shot down? Watching the witch shake within Clint's hold was truly a poignant sight, and the blond could feel his eyes moisten a little.

He knew that despite people telling her that everything will be alright, nothing will ever fill the void that her twin had left behind. Sure, the hole might shrink over years, but it would never knit together, never actually heal. Not completely anyway.

He could sympathize with Wanda. He knew how it felt to suddenly lose everyone you cared for, to find yourself alone in a seemingly new world. How hard it was to believe that people will actually want to be your friend.

After all, why would anyone want to be friends with the witch who almost destroyed the avengers?

Steve couldn't help but wince. They had a lot to work on if they were going to train the girl to fight with them and for the city.

Not for Pietro.  
Not for the only family she had.  
But for everyone.  
Even if nobody gave a damn about the trouble the avengers went through each time a threat hung over the city.

This was not going to be easy.

 _A few leaves crinkled with the breeze, then silence fell again._

* * *

Tony stared at the casket with nothing but a hard gaze. He had failed to protect them, as usual. Now, because he couldn't have destroyed the airplanes, Pietro was gone, and Wanda was emotionally broken. If Pietro had not been there, they would have lost Clint, and when that happened, Natasha would surely go too.

Single handily, he was responsible for breaking people.

How he always managed to destroy the worlds of the people he loved was beyond him.

Despite the fact that Pietro had ruined his chances of making a physical body for Jarvis, Stark had still bonded with the fast runner, at least considered him as a friend. To have him wrenched away so quickly was quite literally like someone had kicked him in the gut and then ran away, leaving only the pain behind.

The genius was remarkably.. sad. He was shocked to come to the realization, but then again, Pepper was helping him come a long way in properly identifying his emotions. It was not sadness per se, more like grief, and regret.

He regretted not being good enough to save the blond. Despite all of his technology, all of his suits, all of his glory... It still wasn't enough.

He had survived. The avengers had survived.

Pietro had not.

Pepper's grip tightened in his hand, and he relished her presence, sneaking an arm around her waist as a few tears slipped into her golden strands.

 _The sound of a chair scraping against the rocky ground met his ears, abnormally loud in the quiet grove, and Tony flinched slightly before the quiet and the peacefulness settled over him again._

* * *

Thor felt out of place. This ceremony was, at the very best, weird for him. They didn't do funerals in Asgard. Apparently though, this was how humans bid their last goodbye to their friends who had died. After all, Pietro had been their friend in the end.

Thor couldn't help but frown. The speedster had attempted to use Mjolnir, even though that endeavour had ended horribly. Usually, he never forgot anyone who attempted to use his hammer, unless they were friends. And in this circumstance, maybe he should forgive the quick runner. After all, he had shown his loyalty in the end, had he not?

Despite the fact that they had not seen eye to eye, Thor had not wished for the blond to die, and like the others, was rather sad to see him go at such a young age. He could understand what Wanda was going through. He knew what is was like to lose a brother. It was like losing your other half, and he did not wish that kind of pain upon anyone.

Despite the fact that Pietro had not been made an Avenger, Thor still referred to him as one. In the end, when everything seemed impossible, it was the speedster who had saved Clint's life at the expense of his own. And that was something that the God of Lightning could never forget. After all, that was the action of a true hero.

The avengers could have used a person like him.

Well, maybe his twin would prove to be just as good in her own way.

 _Thor sighed, wishing for all that was worth that this would all be over soon._

* * *

Natasha was a wreck. Pietro was gone. Clint was comforting Wanda.

She was totally and utterly alone.

The fact that Pietro had died to save Clint weighed heavily in her mind. She should have been there to save her partner, not a random stranger who had spent only mere hours with them. After all, what good are partners if they're not there for each other? What good was she as a partner if her mind was only on Bruce when she should have known where Clint was at all times? After all, she and Clint didn't have any iron armour protecting them, didn't have super healing or chemically altered alter egos. They were always the most exposed, so they relied on each other.

And she had failed him.

 _Her emotions swirled inside her, creating an out of control vortex._

Bruce, the first man she had let herself feel totally free around, had left her.

Was she really that repulsing? Maybe the stories about her cold nature weren't just stories after all. Maybe the cruel way in which she fought had become a part of her everyday life, pushing away even chemically altered people such as Bruce. A sad smile pulled at her lips as she remembered the way his eyes widened slightly, orbs darkening when he caught on to her flirting. And the way his lips parted, allowing the smallest of breaths to leave his lungs in a hurry.

She remembered the tentative way in which he handled her when he was Hulked out, how even though he appeared as a monster, treated her as if she was a princess.

His princess.

A tear dribbled down her cheek, and she thanked the Gods for not having been wearing make-up, as another tear followed quickly, before she found herself sobbing. Her red rimmed eyes were closed tight, and her chest rose and fell in hiccupping motions as she choked on her own breath. Meanwhile, two streaks of salt water travelled endlessly down her hollowed cheeks.

She was fully shaking before a muscled arm draped around her carefully, almost as if the person was afraid to touch her. She flinched, turning quickly only to find Steve's chest in her face. The captain looked as if he was holding in his own feelings, and she found herself leaning against his chest, letting him comfort her for once in her lifetime.

 _When her hiccupping sobs quieted down, a few leaves crinkled loudly, and she could have sworn she heard a whisper deep in the woods before silence fell again._

* * *

Bruce swore quietly. He did not want to miss the funeral, as like the others, he too had somewhat bonded with the runner, and was sad to see him go. However, his reason for attending ran much deeper than just respect for the blond who had saved their archer and died in the process.

Watching Natasha sob in Steve's chest was quite sad, and he was tempted to go comfort her, to offer her his own shoulder to cry on. After all, that is what people who are in love are supposed to do, right? Be there for each other, live for each other, provide each other with what they have.

He almost stepped forward, and a few dry leaves crinkled under his step. He saw Natasha look around slightly, as if she had heard the noise, or felt his presence, before she dissolved into sobs again, holding on to Steve's shirt as if her very life depended on it.

That was enough for him to stay hidden.

He was nothing but a monster, would only bring more pain in her life instead of the happiness she deserved. It was better like this.

Better to live with the heartache that came from being away from her than live with the thought that he had hurt her with his freak self.

Or worse, killed her.

He knew then that he wouldn't live with himself if that happened.

With a final sigh, he turned and ran away.

Away from anyone he could hurt.

* * *

Three hours later, the grove was empty.

No chairs.  
No visible caskets.  
No agents.  
No avengers.  
No witches.

No anything. Only the grey headstone stood out vividly against the grass blades and the few red flowers. Probably wild poppies.

The engravings were deep and clear :

 _In memory of Pietro Maxinoff - Quicksilver  
A great brother and a dear friend.  
_ _Died on 6th May, 2015.  
Will always be remembered as a hero in one of the darkest days.  
_

A lone robin settled on a branch, his red chest puffed and visible. A heartfelt song escaped from his beak, as if nature itself had either felt the sadness in the grove, or it was mourning the loss of the speedster.

After a while, it opened its wings and took flight.

 _Quiet fell in the grove again, and a breeze picked up, rustling the fallen leaves._

* * *

 **So yeah.. Hi! It's been a while since I last posted, but school has me busy. I'm still writing, I have a few one shots (One Piece) planned, but it's slow and there will definitely be long waits between each story ;-; I've been working on this since I saw Age of Ultron, and since I'm sick AND drowning in school work, excuse minor mistakes which I didn't see in my once over ;-; Do contact me if you think there is something horribly wrong there though.**

 **Oh and sorry if I managed to invoke your feels ;3 Age of Ultron invoked mine so I said hey, lemme try.**

 **Disclaimer : I do not own the Avengers sadly. If I did Bruce and Natasha would NOT have been together. (I don't ship them)**

 **ANYWHO! If you liked this, feel free to review? I like those very much ;3**

 **-Chrisii**


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